The Pearl of Penang

by Clare Flynn

  As she walked, absorbing the chaotic yet beautiful scene, an image of the Hampshire village where she had lived with Mrs Shipley-Thomas formed in her mind, dull and tame in comparison to the East. But at least when she was back in England she’d be free of the humiliation that was her constant diet here in Penang.

  She turned off the waterfront, into a wide street lined with stores and shop-houses. Colourful posters advertised Tiger Balm and Tiger Beer as well as cigarette brands, and there were numerous signs in Chinese characters. The dress shop was a large establishment with windows that gave onto the street. Evie peered through the glass and was reassured to see a wide selection of European day and evening dresses. She went inside.

  Later that evening, as she sat in front of the looking glass adjusting her hair and applying a light touch of lipstick, Evie wondered if her new dress was suitable. It had been an extravagant purchase, but Douglas had been as good as his word and paid her a generous allowance. And soon he would have nothing more to pay for, once she was on a ship heading back to England.

  Evie wasn’t the type to want revenge, to try to get as generous a financial settlement as possible. She was used to making her own way in the world and had no wish to profit from this sad and sorry episode in her life. Better to move ahead. Find a new path. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried – she’d met Douglas more than halfway. But she wasn’t going to lie down and let him trample over her like a doormat.

  She was nervous about the evening ahead. Apart from dealing with her husband’s quixotic behaviour, she was worried about seeing Arthur Leighton again, after their conversation in the garden. Had she imagined the look in his eyes? Suppressing the thought, she convinced herself it was her imagination. After the coldness of Douglas, it was only natural that she should seize upon any form of kindness in a man and misinterpret it. Besides, odd as it might seem, Arthur was a married man and had to be in love with Veronica. Why else would he forgive her marital infidelities – if, as Evie was sure, Mary Helston had told her the truth?

  Standing up, Evie surveyed her image in the cheval mirror, smoothing the silk fabric over her hips. She liked what she saw. Maybe she wasn’t a sylph, like Veronica Leighton – she was more statuesque – but she did look elegant. The bias-cut of the gown was flattering, hugging her body as it curved, before flaring softly below the hips, and the pale mauve shade perfectly complemented her green eyes. Not bad, she told herself. Not bad at all.

  Feeling more confident, she went downstairs. Douglas was at the open French windows of the drawing room, a stengah in his hand. He glanced at her as she came in but said nothing.

  Benny was on duty dispensing drinks and handed her a gin and bitters. Evie took the drink, feeling awkward again. How was it possible that in just thirty seconds her confidence could plummet thanks to the moodiness of the man she’d married? She sat down. If there was going to be a conversation, he could damn well initiate it. Otherwise, she’d sit here in silence.

  A moment later, Reggie Hyde-Underwood was shown in by Aunty Mimi, full of delight about his new son, who, he told Evie, was to be called Stanford after the child’s maternal grandfather. Evie glanced sideways at Douglas, but he had turned away and was adjusting his cuff links.

  ‘And your wife?’

  ‘Splendid, thank you, Mrs Barrington. The old girl came through it all with flying colours. They say she and the baby should be able to come home after a few more days’ rest.’

  Douglas had moved over to the sideboard to instruct Benny, needlessly, on Reggie’s drink. It was clear to Evie that his manager’s evident joy in fatherhood was riling him. To her relief, the Leightons and the Rogers all arrived at the same time and the party, served with their ‘stiffeners’, moved into the garden, where scented torches were burning to stave off the mosquitos. The ghostly glow lit up the flowering trees and gave an ethereal magic to the scene. It had been raining earlier in the evening and the air was full of the soft perfume of rain-drenched flowers and the citron smell from the torches.

  Evie’s battered confidence returned when she saw the admiring look in Arthur Leighton’s eyes.

  ‘Evie, you look stunning tonight,’ he said, before being called over by Douglas to join the group of men. She felt a small thrill of pleasure at the compliment, starved as she was of any appreciation by her husband.

  ‘Nice frock.’ Veronica looked Evie’s gown up and down. ‘Didn’t I see it in the window of that shop just off Marine Drive?’ She shook her head and wagged a finger. ‘You didn’t take my advice and go to see Mr Ramanathan?’

  ‘I’m afraid I was pushed for time.’

  ‘Silly girl! He could have run you up something in a couple of hours. Then there’d be no risk of running into someone else wearing the same thing.’ Her tone dripped disdain. ‘You do know that shop is always at least a season behind? Mr Ramanathan could have made you a gown straight out of the latest issue of Vogue magazine. The man’s a genius.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Aren’t I right, Dorothy?’ Mrs Rogers was slightly behind her. ‘I’m telling our hostess about the skills of Mr Ramanathan.’

  Ignoring Veronica, Dorothy Rogers moved forward to greet Evie and introduce herself. Mrs Rogers gave her a warm smile. Evie was determined not to let Veronica Leighton get under her skin any more. Her decision to leave Douglas and Penang bolstered her confidence. Yes, despite her nerves, she was going to enjoy herself this evening. It was a pity neither Susan Hyde-Underwood nor Mary Helston were here, but she would make sure to be as charming as possible to Dorothy Rogers, whom she sensed was less than enamoured of Veronica.

  Mrs Rogers managed the unusual feat of appearing both approachable and formidable – the kind of woman who commanded respect, didn’t suffer fools, but was perennially cheerful. In her late fifties, she had a matronly figure of the sort Evie’s father used to describe as well-upholstered. Her eyes twinkled with what looked like wry amusement – probably at Veronica’s expense. Evie liked her at once.

  ‘Do you and Mr Rogers live here in George Town?’

  ‘I wish we did. No, we’re down in KL.’

  ‘KL?’

  Veronica’s laugh trilled. ‘Really, Evie! Kuala Lumpur.’ She nudged Mrs Rogers conspiratorially. ‘Evie’s been here for weeks but you’d never know it.’ As an afterthought, she added, ‘Dear girl that she is,’ and beamed at Evie like a proud parent. ‘I’ve tried to take her under my wing, but she will insist on doing things her own way.’

  Bristling, Evie tried not to let her feelings show. ‘What’s KL like, Mrs Rogers?’

  ‘Do call me Dorothy.’ The woman gave her a friendly smile. ‘I love it. Not as nice as Penang though. I loved living here in George Town after the war years. Clifford worked his way up the ladder with Guthrie’s and we brought up five children in Malaya. I’m glad all that constant moving from estate to estate is behind us. Our next move will be back to England when he retires.’ She glanced towards her husband who was deep in conversation with Arthur Leighton. ‘In the meantime, Clifford still does a lot of travelling including to London once a year to meet with the board and deliver his annual report.’ She squeezed Evie’s arm. ‘And I go with him, which is such fun as three of our children are living back there. All married. I do love to see the grandchildren.’

  Evidently bored by the turn the conversation had taken, Veronica moved to join the men who were gathered in a group. She linked arms with Douglas and Reggie Hyde-Underwood and in a teasing tone said, ‘So, Dougie, when are you and Evie going to follow in Reggie’s footsteps and pop out a son and heir to the Barrington fortune?’

  Evie wanted to slap her. Douglas had a face like thunder and Reggie chuckled in embarrassment.

  ‘Really, Veronica, you are a card. Have you no shame!’ Dorothy Rogers tried to make light of the moment. ‘Poor Doug doesn’t want to be quizzed like that! They’ve only been married five minutes.’

  Evie glanced at Arthur and saw he was frowning, cringing even. Veronica appeared unperturbed.

  Past caring what Ve
ronica thought of her, Evie said, ‘I could ask the same of you and Arthur, Veronica.’

  They were saved from hearing Veronica’s response by the announcement from Aunty Mimi that dinner was served. The party moved into the dining room. Veronica threw Evie a look that would have frozen boiling water.

  Evie had arranged the seating, placing herself between Arthur Leighton and Clifford Rogers, opposite Reggie, who was between the two other women. Douglas sat at the head of the table, with Clifford on one side of him and Veronica on the other. Evie hadn’t consulted her husband about the seating plan but had assumed he would want to talk to the Guthrie’s boss. Placing Veronica on his other side was a deliberate ploy. She knew Douglas would have preferred one of the other men, but it was now likely the conversation would be between Douglas, Reggie and Clifford, cutting Veronica off and leaving Evie free to talk to Arthur and Dorothy Rogers at the other end of the table. She felt slightly ashamed that she had been so calculating, but it was no more than Veronica deserved.

  To her relief, the dinner passed without incident and Evie took quiet satisfaction in the sour expression on Veronica’s face as her repeated attempts to steer the talk in another direction failed, against the constant discussion of rubber price movements, fluctuating market demand and the restrictive quotas imposed by the rubber industry association.

  At the other end of the table, the conversation between herself, Dorothy, and Arthur was about music, books, and life in Penang. Dorothy Rogers urged Evie to visit the swimming club and the picture house and the beaches at nearby Batu Ferringhi.

  Since the Rogers were travelling up to northern Kedah on the mainland the following morning, the party broke up early, and Evie stood beside Douglas on the doorstep as their guests left. Veronica took Arthur’s arm and draped it around herself as if to signal ownership. She gave Evie a sour look, before replacing it with a joyless smile. ‘Well done, darling!’ she said to Evie in a voice that oozed insincerity, clearly not pleased at the way she’d been marooned at the other end of the table.

  When they’d gone, Evie felt relieved that she’d got through this test without mishap. She’d not tripped or stumbled and had spilled no gravy – a triumph in itself! ‘I think that went well. Don’t you?’

  Douglas grunted.

  ‘I hope you got what you wanted from it.’

  Another grunt.

  ‘Well, I’m going to turn in.’ She moved towards the staircase.

  He reached for her wrist and drew her back. ‘Let’s have another drink first.’

  Evie hesitated, before deciding there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Better to get on with the news that she was leaving him and going back to England. She followed Doug into the drawing room and watched while he poured a brandy for himself, shaking her head when he offered her a drink.

  Perched on the edge of the sofa, she watched as he slugged down the brandy and poured himself another, then took off his jacket and flung it carelessly on a chair.

  He stood, leaning against the wall, looking at her, but saying nothing. His tie was undone, his dark hair unruly, where he had pushed his hands through it. She felt an unexpected rush of desire for him, seeing him there like that, slightly dishevelled, his forehead damp with sweat. But it was no good. They couldn’t go on like this, ricocheting back and forth while she had no idea what he was thinking or how he was going to behave. Never knowing whether he was angry with her. Even tonight, she had no idea whether she’d said or done something wrong during the evening. Was he about to tell her he wanted to end their marriage?

  She decided she had to take the initiative. Taking a gulp of air, she said, ‘This isn’t working out. It’s time we admitted it. I can see you’re not happy about tonight. And I can’t handle your swings of mood any more. I’m going to go back to England. If you’ll pay for my trip home that will be the end of the matter. I don’t want anything more from you.’ She raised her palms towards him, wishing she’d accepted the offered drink. Convinced he wasn’t even going to dignify her with a reply, she started to get up. She might as well go to bed and try to tackle him again in the morning. At least he’d be sober then.

  But Douglas put his glass down and moved towards her, pulling her into his arms. Evie was stunned. Her head against him, she felt his chest rising and falling as he breathed. His hands went to her hair, his fingers threading through it as he tilted her head back and bent to kiss her.

  Evie jerked away. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘What do you think I’m doing?’ His voice was slightly slurred as he reached for her again. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’

  ‘Don’t you listen at all?’ She stepped backwards.

  He moved towards her, drawing her into his arms again. His eyes locked on hers and she felt herself weakening.

  ‘I couldn’t wait for them to go. For us to be alone.’ His hands were everywhere, running over the silk of her dress, following the curve of her hips. He made a little groaning noise, and kissed her. The kiss was hungry, as if he were intent on devouring her, consuming her.

  Evie wanted to kiss him back, but a little voice inside told her not to. How many times would they go down this road? She had to be sure he wasn’t playing games with her again. ‘Stop!’

  ‘Please, Evie.’

  She pulled away from him and went to sit on the sofa, drawing her knees up in front of her protectively. ‘I can’t keep doing this. I feel like a tennis ball, batted and slammed around the court and never knowing which side of the net I’m on.’

  Douglas crouched in front of her, his hands against the sides of her legs. His eyes fixed on her, his expression anguished. ‘I’m sorry. I always seem to mess things up between us. Give me another chance, Evie.’

  She breathed out a long deep sigh. ‘I’m not sure I can. I don’t think I can bear being treated like this anymore.’

  ‘Treated like what?’

  She looked at him in irritation. ‘One minute you act as if you want me, then the next you can hardly bear to be in the same room. You never speak to me. You never tell me how you feel. You’re abrupt to the point of rudeness. You disappear. You’re cold. You’ve made it clear you feel no desire for me – only for the idea of having a child. I can’t do it any longer.’

  He went to sit beside her, his body slumped forward.

  Evie wondered whether to get up and go up to bed, leaving him there. She tried to make herself feel contempt for him, but instead she felt only sadness.

  Eventually he spoke. ‘I know. I realise how hard you’ve tried. You were wonderful tonight. And you look wonderful too.’ His fists were clenched on his knees, his knuckles white. ‘Look, Evie, it’s complicated. Please give me time. I know it will get better. I’ll get better. Please don’t leave me.’

  His face was a picture of remorse, his breathing ragged. She hesitated, uncertain whether to believe him. He took her in his arms again and began to kiss her. This time it was slow, tentative, and she found herself responding. Drawing her up to her feet, he took her by the hand and led her up the stairs.

  When Evie woke the next morning, to her surprise Douglas was still lying beside her. To her even greater surprise he was looking at her. She felt her cheeks redden, remembering what had happened the night before, what they had done, how she had felt.

  ‘I was watching you sleeping,’ he said, stroking a lock of hair away from her forehead. He bent his head and brushed her mouth with his. She felt the roughness of his unshaved chin against her skin. He was smiling. ‘Thank you, for staying. Thank you for last night. For everything.’

  A warm glow spread through her. Was this how it was going to be from now on? Had she at last broken through his coldness? Might he even be beginning to care for her? She was about to reach for his hand, to put her own hands on his body, to rediscover the pleasures of the night before, when he swung his legs off the bed and bounced onto his feet.

  ‘I have to go.’

  She pulled herself up to a sitting position. ‘Now? Can’t you stay a while?�
��

  ‘Duty calls. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ As he put on his dressing gown, Evie noticed the familiar look of irritation cross his face and she felt a hollowness in her stomach.

  ‘I have a rubber estate to run.’ His voice was cold. It was as if a switch had flipped inside him. Without a further glance towards her, he was gone.

  13

  Once Jasmine had left for school, Evie, determined not to dwell on what had happened between herself and Douglas, decided she needed to get away from the house. Remembering what Dorothy Rogers had said the previous evening about the pleasures of the Penang Swimming Club, she asked Benny to drive her there. An act of bravery, when inside all she wanted to do was climb back into bed and hide away from the world.

  When they arrived at Tanjung Bungah, to the north of George Town on the coast, Evie was glad she’d come. Telling Benny to return for her in a few hours, she went into the rambling late-Victorian clubhouse to change into her swimsuit, delighted that the place was relatively quiet. Steering clear of a group of women occupying deckchairs on the lawn near the long blue pool, she went to the far end and slipped down the metal ladder into the salt water.

  Evie had learned to swim on family holidays in Cornwall and the South of France. Her father, a strong swimmer, had taught her, and she had happy memories of those halcyon childhood days, before her mother embarked on her infidelities and her father had fallen prey to the pressures that led to him embezzling money and taking his own life.